


Spinning

by journeycat



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeycat/pseuds/journeycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baird and Ilane, when they were young and wild and free. Written for Minor Characters Week at Goldenlake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spinning

**Author's Note:**

> Summary is taken from DJ Sammy and Yanou's "Heaven."

"Mother's picked out a bride for me..."

"And...?"

"And I don't _want_ to get married.

She makes a noise in her throat that could either have been a suppressed giggle or a cough. He prefers to think the latter. She is looking at him indulgently, as though she is the elder and she is merely humoring the petulant child.

"Before you act so glum," she says, "tell me to whom she betrothed you. If she's a troll, then I'll certainly give you all due sympathy. But I'm sure she's a lovely girl. Lady Isoleyne may be a crabby old hag, but she won't pair you with anyone terrible."

Baird cleverly decides not to point out that the only reason she thinks his mother is crabby is because they don't like each other at all, and that Isoleyne is neither old nor haggish. Sometimes he is inclined to think she was a crabby old hag, himself, when he pleads with her to let him marry his friend and tentative romantic interest and she says quite rudely, _Definitely not_.

"It's Lady Wilina," he tells her, "from Haryse, which is a good house. I've seen her before—she's very beautiful."

"She is," Ilane agrees, "inside and out. We were in the convent at about the same times. She's a lovely lady."

"Is she?" he says hopefully. "Or are you just being nice?"

She snorts. "I never ice the cake for you, you know that. Wilina truly is a nice girl."

He watches her and is both disappointed and relieved when she shows no jealousy. If he had a choice, Baird would spend the rest of his life with her. She is unseemly and spirited, the very things he loves in her that his mother scorns. If Isoleyne could see them now—on a hill outside Corus where they like to picnic, with his back propped up against an apple tree and Ilane sitting across from him, her long bare legs stretched out indecently from under her skirts for all the world to see—she would quite probably die from shock.

If he had a choice, he would marry her in a heartbeat. But she is the one who regretfully, kindly, wistfully says no.

"I'm glad then," Baird says finally. "If I have to marry someone, I'd want it to be with someone good."

Ilane tilts her head, smiling like she knows his game. She probably does because she's far smarter than anyone he has ever met. She wiggles her toes teasingly, and he grabs a little ankle and tickles the bottom of her foot.

"Baird," she squeals, kicking out at him, " _stop_ it!"

And she lets out the high peal of laughter she is infamous for, the one that causes men to look at her. He hopes Wilina has a contagious laugh like that.

The game finally ends when she bites him ruthlessly on his hand and he yelps, shaking it. She is breathless and bright-eyed, and he can't help but smile at her. They are easy together, and he knows her like the back of his hand. Theirs is not a superficial court romance, but something stronger and sweeter.

"Shall we go back now?" she asks. "It's getting late, and Mama will wonder where I went."

Though reluctant, Baird, who knows the lady of Seabeth and Seajen well enough to know that one should never, ever cross her, hastily agrees. They pack up the blanket and leftovers into the basket, and their picnic ends.

He gazes down the hill toward the city and takes a step.

And then her long, cool hand wraps around his, and he turns to gaze into her impish eyes.

"What do you say?" Ilane asks. "For old time's sake?"

And because this may be the last time he can be with her so easily, he grins and says, "Why not?"

Then he grabs her by the wrists and heaves her, and she squeals and grabs him, and they fall together on the hill and roll down. He thinks that he will most certainly be nauseous by the time his momentum stops, and he will be so filthy that his mother will squawk in outrage, but all he knows is that the earth is spinning all around him and he can't stop and Ilane's high peal of laughter is the prettiest thing he has ever heard.


End file.
